pair of present-day lovers, any more than there had been for the star-crossed lovers over seventy years ago.
âDo you always get up so early?â J.T. asked.
âWhat?â
âItâs barely daylight and youâre up, dressed, and have already fixed coffee,â he said. âIs this your normal routine?â
âNot always. But sometimes I get up this early andpaint. Thereâs nothing more glorious than a New Mexico sunrise, unless itâs a New Mexico sunset.â
âYouâre really in love with this country, arenât you? Youâve fallen under its enchanted spell like so many Easterners have done over the years.â
âMy great-grandmother fell in loveâ¦with New Mexico over seventy years ago, when she and her husband spent the summer here on an archaeological dig.â Joanna finished her coffee, placed her empty mug on the table between the two rockers, then looked toward the east at the morning sky.
âYeah, Elena told me the story, or what you told her.â J.T. took another swig of coffee, then placed his half-full cup beside Joannaâs. âYour great-grandmother was a married woman who had an affair with one of the natives, then left the guy and went back home to her safe, secure life in Virginia as the wife of a well-to-do college professor and renowned archaeologist.â
Joannaâs spine stiffened; she clutched the arms of the rocker. âThere was a great deal more to their affair. They were truly in love. It broke her heart to leave him. She loved him as long as she lived.â Joanna thrust her right hand in front of J.T.âs face. âShe wore his ring until the day she died.â
âIf she loved him so damned much, why didnât she leave her husband and stay here in New Mexico with him?â Grabbing Joannaâs hand, J.T. twisted the silver-and-turquoise ring around and around on her finger. âIâll tell you why. Because Benjamin Greymountain was good enough to take as a lover, but not good enough to marry. He wasnât good enough for her to give up everything and spend her life with him. Thatâs not love, Jo, thatâsââ
Jerking her hand out his, she jumped to her feet. âWhat would you know about love? Listening to you talk aboutour great-grandparents in that way is a sacrilege. If you had read Annabelleâs diary, you wouldnât say such things. Youâd know how deeply she loved Benjamin, and how completely she trusted his love for her.â
J.T. stood, grabbed Joanna and whipped her around to face him. âYouâre right. I donât know the first thing about love, but I know all about lust, all about how good it feels to scratch an itch thatâs driving you crazy.â Lowering his head, he nuzzled the side of her face with his nose.
No, no! her mind screamed. She wasnât going to let him do this. She wasnât going to let him reduce the beautiful love Benjamin and Annabelle had shared into some meaningless sexual affair. And she wasnât going to let him prove his point by showing her that the two of them felt those same animalistic urges.
She struggled against his hold, a feeling of panic building inside her. J.T. clutched her waist, pulling her up against him. She gasped when she felt his arousal. âWe could have what Benjamin and Annabelle had, if thatâs what you want. We could spend the next week making love night and day, and then Iâll go back to Atlanta and you can write in your diary about how exciting it was, having an Indian lover.â
âLet go of me.â She glared at him, hating him. Hating him for making light of their great-grandparentsâ love. Hating him for stirring passion to life within her.
âYou donât want the kind of affair your beloved ancestress had?â J.T. taunted her. âAre you saying you didnât come to Trinidadââ he yanked her hand up, entwined their fingers and
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